


Change

by anniemoon



Category: Dead Like Me
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-18
Updated: 2003-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniemoon/pseuds/anniemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betty feels a change coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

She feels a change coming.

It's in the air or the smell of patent leather on a new pair of shoes or the way Rube looks at her when he's handing out assignments. He holds on to each post-it for a moment longer than necessary before he lets her grab it. Sometimes, she'll catch him giving her a sad little half-smile and when she asks him why he's looking at her like that, he shakes his head and says nothing.

She thinks she knows what it is and she's not sure how she feels about it. She likes being a reaper. She feels like she's doing a service, showing a kindness to those who need it more than they ever did before. The slight tingle in her fingers when she takes a soul gives her a charge, makes her feel energized and connected to life in a way she never did when she was actually living. She likes the perks of being dead, yet still alive. She likes strappy sandals and expensive clothes. She likes the taste of expensive white wine and lamb medallions with sprigs of thyme and a ginger-mustard glaze. She enjoys romance movies and Sarah McLachlan songs and fashion magazines. She loves the scent of lavender and the way the sun looks when it's setting behind a skyscraper downtown and sleeping in cool silk sheets.

She will miss all of these things and she wonders if heaven, if that's where she's going, will have them. She's seen glimpses of the place people go to, and each one looks different for each person. She wonders if her destination will have boutiques and sidewalk bistros and day spas. She doesn't think she will like an eternity of harps and choruses and golden light, although she knows she looks her best in natural light. She wants to be surrounded by gorgeous things, by wealthy things, by chattering, gossipy lovely people who dote on her and tell her how clever and beautiful and kind she is. She laughs to herself, because she wants to be a goddess in a place where she suspects only one god exists and he's not willing to share the glory.

She tries to make her goodbyes to the ones she'll leave behind, in her own way. She accepts any assignment Rube gives her with grace. She lets Roxy's rages wash over her without comment. She flirts shamelessly with Mason and even lets him kiss her in the car one cloudy night, because she's been tormenting the poor boy for decades. She thinks she might leave the keys to her penthouse somewhere he can find them. She doesn't do anything for Toilet Seat, but if the way Mason looks at the kid is any indication, she doesn't need to. George will be just fine.

She takes small gifts around to all of her favorite shopkeepers and hairdressers and chefs. They try to refuse and insist her patronage is gift enough, but she insists with a charming smile and they give in. She takes special care with her charges, making sure she pulls their souls before their bodies are damaged. She answers their questions and comforts them and leads them by hand to the end of their journey. She has always been good at her job but now she feels she could earn an Employee of the Millennium award.

She sometimes thinks she's being silly for making all these preparations. Rube's behavior could mean nothing. Her senses could be deceiving her. For all she knows, she could just be due for a re-assignment, maybe joining the illness team or even the cushy position of assisting those who die peacefully in their sleep. Rube could know about a particularly difficult job he's going to have to assign to her sometime in the near future, and he feels pity, as much as Rube can feel anything other than world-weariness. She could wake up tomorrow with everything back to normal and her feeling like a fool for running around the city these past weeks acting like she was never going to see these people, her people, again. There could be a lot of things that explain what she's feeling, and none of them have to mean that she's leaving. She tells herself all of this and rolls her eyes and calls herself a ninny. She could be wrong.

But she doesn't think she is.


End file.
